Those in Darkness
by Susan M. M
Summary: What happens when Obersoldat Jose Doofenshmirtz needs to ask Colonel Robert Hogan for a favor? A BIG favor? A crossover with the Phineas & Ferb universe, although neither Phineas Flynn nor Ferb Fletcher are in the story, not having been born yet. Winner of the Best Crossover for this year's Papa Bear Awards.
1. Spring at Stalag 13

**Those in Darkness**

**Standard Fanfic Disclaimer **that wouldn't last ten seconds in a court of law: these aren't my characters. I'm just borrowing them for, um, typing practice. _Ja_, that's it, typing practice. They will be returned to their original owners relatively undamaged, or at least suitably bandaged. Hogan's Heroes was created by Albert S. Ruddy and Bernard Fein; Phineas and Ferb was created by Dan Provenmire and Jeff "Swampy" Marsh. The lyrics to _Die Dreigroschenoper_ (in English, _The Threepenny Opera_) are by Bertolt Brecht. The English translation is from Wikipedia, translator unknown.

**Those in Darkness**

by Susan M. M.

_Hogan's Heroes/Phineas and Ferb_

**_~#~*~#~*_**

_There are some who are in darkness__ *** Denn die einen sind im Dunkeln_

_And the others are in light *** __ Und die andern sind im Licht_

_And you see the ones in brightness__ *** Und man siehet die im Lichte_

_Those in darkness drop from sight. *** __Die im Dunkeln sieht man nicht_

_Bertolt Brecht, _The Threepenny Opera

**~#~*~#~***

Colonel Robert Hogan leaned against the barracks wall, watching his men play volleyball. Tall, muscular, and handsome, he had a face that pleased German _frauleins_ and American misses. His leather crush cap perched upon his dark hair at a jaunty (not quite regulation) angle. His arms were folded over his chest, the right arm unobtrusively supporting his left. It had been a long, hard winter. Now that spring was finally here, his men were enjoying the warmer weather.

Sergeant Hans Schultz approached the colonel. He was a rotund, middle-aged man, a good ten to fifteen years older than Hogan. Hogan often wondered how the German army found him uniforms to fit his chubby frame. "You are not playing, Colonel?"

Hogan shook his head. "Naw. I tripped and banged my arm against the bedpost," he lied. Truthfully he added, "It's still sore. Think I'll just watch."

"You should be more careful, _Herr Oberst_," Schultz admonished him.

"I'll try," Hogan promised, "but there's a war on. People get hurt." He wished the Underground contact he'd met last night had been more careful. His arm had been grazed by a bullet in a case of "friendly fire."

Schultz shook his head and tsked. "That is the worst thing about war. People are always getting hurt."

Hogan nodded.

Schultz reached into his pocket. "My wife sent a letter, with pictures of _die Kinder_. Do you want to see?"

"Sure, I'd love to."

Schultz leaned his Krag-Jørgensen rifle against the barracks wall so he would have both hands free. He opened the envelope and pulled out five wallet-sized pictures. "That is Oskar, my oldest. This is Johanna; isn't she pretty?"

Hogan agreed. "In a few years, she'll need a stick to beat off the boys."

"Erich, he is the clever one of the family, and Fritz, he is the wild one. Always getting into mischief." Schultz smiled indulgently. "And this is Klara, my youngest."

"Hey, she lost a tooth." Hogan looked up at the sergeant. "You're a lucky man, Schultzie."

"_Ja_, I am. I only hope this war ends soon. It is hard being away from them."

"War can't last forever, Schultzie. In a -" Hogan looked up. A car was coming through the gates. "Who's that?"

Schultz stared at the black car. It was decorated with swastika flags. "_Der_ _Kommandant_ didn't say anything about expecting company."

The driver hurried out of the car and opened the backseat door. A short man in a Gestapo uniform stepped out.

"Hochstetter." Hogan's voice was filled with contempt as he pronounced the name.

"Trouble," Schultz said quietly. He put the photographs back in the envelope and tucked the envelope into his pocket. "I had better warn Col. Klink that he is here." Schultz started to turn toward the commandant's office.

"Uh, Schultz?"

"Yes, Colonel?" The sergeant turned back to see what was the matter.

"You forgot this." Hogan held out the rifle to him.

"_Danke, Herr Oberst_."

**SCENE BREAK**

Col. Wilhelm Klink, Commandant of _Luftstalag_ 13, hummed as he continued the never-ending battle against paperwork and red tape. The window was open, allowing the spring breeze in. The record player behind his desk played a recording of '_Die Dreigroschenoper', _one of his favorite operas. It was as close to a good day as a POW camp managed. Sometimes Klink felt that he was as much of a prisoner as the men in his keeping.

Loud voices from the outer office caught his attention. He looked up from his paperwork.

"_Herr Kommandant, Herr Kommandant_," he heard Schultz cry out.

"_Nein_, Sergeant, you can not go in there," he heard his secretary, Fraulein Hilda, protest.

Schultz knocked on the door of Klink's private office. He pushed his way in, not bothering to wait for an invitation to come in. "_Mein Kommandant, _I came to warn you. Major Hochstetter is here."

"Hochstetter? Here?" Klink paled. "What can he want?"

"I don't know, but you had better turn off the record player, or at least change the record." Schultz jutted his chin at the record player. "I like Kurt Weill. _Der Fuhrer_ does not."

Klink gulped. This was the worst possible music to play in front of the Gestapo. 'The Threepenny Opera', a banned work, politically incorrect because of its Marxist overtones, written by a Jewish composer, and this particular performance conducted by Dr. Otto Klemperer, the brilliant but erratic Jewish conductor/composer. The composer, the lyricist, and the conductor had all fled Germany in 1933. Quickly he removed the record. He handed it to Schultz, who opened one of the desk drawers, stashed the record inside it, and then shut the drawer. Klink placed a Wagner recording on the machine; the _Fuhrer_ was known to love 'Ride of the Valkyries.'

A moment later Klink heard the front door open and then slam shut. Then he heard Hochstetter telling Hilda "Do not bother to announce me, _fraulein_. I can show myself in."

Klink looked up from his paperwork. "_Guten tag, Herr_ Major. What a pleasant surprise," Klink lied. He reached down and felt the drawer the record was in, just to assure himself it was shut tight. He tried to keep his voice from quavering, but didn't quite succeed. Any sane man feared the Gestapo.

"_Heil_ Hitler!" Hochstetter saluted.

Klink raised his hand in a tepid salute. "_Heil_ Hitler."

"Klink, I need to talk to - Turn that racket off!"

"Racket, Major? You dare describe Wagner as racket? Why, our beloved _Fuhrer_ has said himself that 'Anyone who does not appreciate the music of Wagner cannot understand National Socialism'."

Wolfgang Hochstetter dared not argue with that. "Turn it down, then," he ordered, "so I can talk without shouting."

**SCENE BREAK**

"Funny, I thought the Gestapo liked shouting," Corporal Peter Newkirk observed. He and his mates were in Col. Hogan's quarters, listening to the coffeepot.

The music continued, but at a much lower volume. "You know, Major, Wagner's music is not meant to whisper. It is meant to shout."

"I don't believe it," Corporal Louis LeBeau whispered. "Klink is actually talking back to Hochstetter."

"Maybe he finally remembered a colonel outranks a major," Sgt. James Kinchloe suggested.

"Shhh," Col. Hogan ordered.

"I did not come here to discuss music, Kommandant Klink. I came here to talk to some of your men," Hochstetter declared, not quite snarling.

"There has never been a successful escape from Stalag 13," Klink reminded him. "It has been over two months since we have even had an escape attempt."

Hogan turned to Kinchloe. "Remind me to schedule a phony escape attempt. We don't want the commandant getting complacent."

The Negro sergeant nodded.

"Not your prisoners, your men. I need to talk to some of your guards."

"Major Hochstetter! My men are all good soldiers, all loyal sons of the Fatherland," Klink protested.

"That, Colonel, is what I am here to determine."

"And that, gentlemen, is why the Allies are going to win the war," Hogan declared quietly. "You can't fight a war on two fronts and win. And the Nazis spend as much time fighting their own people as they do us."

**END OF CHAPTER ONE**

**Author's Note: ** Dr. Otto Klemperer, real life father of actor Werner Klemperer, was a much respected conductor. He suffered from bipolar disorder. He and his family fled Germany in 1933. Werner Klemperer, who played the violin very well in real life, served in the US Army during WWII. Sorry, there won't be any characters from Disney's _Phineas and Ferb_ until chapter two or three.


	2. Interrogation

**Chapter 2**

The young man saluted sharply. "_Gefreiter_ Schlausen, reporting as ordered, sir."

Hochstetter sat behind Klink's desk. He glanced up at the handsome young man standing before him. "Your name is Klaus Schlausen?"

"_Ja__wohl_, Major Hochstetter."

"You look like a strong, sturdy fellow. Why is it that you are at a POW camp instead of the front?"

"I was slightly injured in a training exercise, _Herr_ Major. I was sent here for light duty."

"You appear to be fully recovered," Hochstetter observed.

"_Ja,_ Major. _Danke __schoen_."

Hochstetter scowled. "So why are you still here?"

"This is where I am ordered to serve, sir."

"But you would prefer combat, _ja_? To defend the Fatherland?"

"Sir, it is an honor to wear my country's uniform and serve however I am able. My grandfather fought in the Great War, and my great-great-grandfather fought in the Franco-Prussian War," he bragged. "But what I really want," he lowered his voice a little, his tone confiding, "is to be a _Luftwaffe_ pilot like _Oberst_ -" He stopped himself before he said 'like _Oberst_ Hogan,' who had taken pity on a sky-hungry soldier and talked to him about flying once or twice. "Like _Oberst_ Klink was in the Great War."

"I am not interested in your genealogy. I am interested in your service in the Hitler Youth."

"_Der __Hitlerjugend_? I am too old for that, sir," Schlausen pointed out as politely as possible.

"Apparently, you've been too old for quite a while. This file," Hochstetter slammed a hand down on a manila folder, "says your attendance record in the Hitler Youth was spotty. Do you not know that the Hitler Youth program is how we prepare our young men to serve _der __Führer __und __der __Vaterland_? How we turn boys into men?"

"_Jawohl_, sir, I know."

"So, were you too good to show up for meetings? Were you already a man? Or were you disloyal to your _Führer_ even when you were hardly out of short pants?" Hochstetter demanded.

"Major, I had to help my father in the shop. During the Depression, he could not afford to hire as many people as he used to. And once the war began, his clerks enlisted, as was their patriotic duty. My troop leader understood that I could not come as often as I would have liked."

"If he was so understanding, why did he mark you absent? Why did he not record you as present, as you should have been?"

Schlausen stared at him, puzzled. "But that would have been lying,Major."

**SCENE BREAK**

"_Obergefreiter_ Karl Langenscheidt, sir." The German corporal looked the very picture of a good Aryan: tall, fair-complected, straight brown hair, blue eyes, handsome in his gray uniform. Unlike Hochstetter, who was short, dark-haired, and only his mother would call him handsome, especially in his black uniform.

Hochstetter returned his salute. "You have a sister?"

"_Ja, _Major. Greta." Langenscheidt tried to keep his face blank, as if he were in one of the illicit poker games with the prisoners. The last thing he wanted to discuss with a Gestapo officer was his sister. Greta had her own opinions about the government and the war, and sometimes she was not as discreet as she should have been in keeping her opinions to herself.

"How well do you know Sophie Scholl?" Hochstetter demanded.

"I don't think I've ever met a _Fraulein_ Scholl. I know a Sophie Zimmerman," Langenscheidt offered.

"So you deny your sister is taking classes with Sophie Scholl? That they are, in fact, friends?"

"Sir, my sister is a student at the University of Munich. I don't know the names of any of her classmates, but she is a very friendly girl, a sweet girl. I'm sure she is friends with most of her classmates -

"Sophie Scholl has been arrested for treason and _Wehrkraftzersetzung__. _And your sister is in the same biology class that she is!"

"Sir, with all due respect, Greta is studying to be a schoolteacher. I am sure there are many students in her biology class. Greta is a patriotic German," Langenscheidt said honestly. He then lied, "and a loyal supporter of National Socialism. She would never do anything against the war effort." As proof of her support of the _Wehrmacht_, he added, "She knits stockings for me and the other guards."

**SCENE BREAK**

The soldier saluted. He looked like a scarecrow in uniform, tall and scrawny. "_Obersoldat_ Doofenshmirtz, sir, reporting as ordered, sir."

"Doofenshmirtz," Hochstetter repeated. He glanced down at a file on the desk. "According to this, you were not a member of the Nazi Party before you were drafted. Why not?"

"I'm not good at parties; I always stand in the corner nursing a beer all night. I'm always too nervous to talk to any girls. Really, I'm just not a party person."

"Doofenshmirtz?" Hochstetter interrupted the stammering explanation.

"Yes, sir?"

"Shut up!" Hochstetter took another look at the file, although he had studied it before coming to Stalag 13. "Private J. Doofenshmirtz. And what does the J stand for? Johann? Jakob? Josef?"

"José, sir," he confessed quietly. He had put up with a lot of teasing about his name over the years.

"José," Hochstetter sneered. "A foreign name. Why is a good German soldier bearing an _Untermenschen_ José instead of an honest German Josef?"

"My mother worked at the Peruvian embassy, sir. The ambassador promised her a raise if she named me after him," Doofenshmirtz explained.

"And this embassy, it was in Berlin, _ja_?" Hochstetter asked.

"_Nein, __mein __Herr_. It was in - "

"It was in St. Gisilberht," Hochstetter said simultaneously with the young soldier. "Are you a good German, Doofenshmirtz? How can you be," his voice rose into a screech, "when you aren't German?"

"Sir, I - "

"Are you loyal to the _Führer_, foreigner? You aren't a party member. You aren't a real German. How can you be a proper soldier for our beloved _Führer_?"

Doofenshmirtz shuddered in his boots. "Sir, it was true I was born in Drüselstein. But because of the _Anschluß,_Drüselstein is now part of the _Großdeutsches __Reich__._I was a good Drüselsteiner. Drüselstein is now part of Germany, so I am now a good German."

Hochstetter scowled. "That remains to be seen, soldier."

**CHAPTER'S END**

**Author's ****Notes: **Drüselstein is a fictional German-speaking kingdom from the Disney cartoon _Phineas __and __Ferb._ Since Hitler annexed Austria in real life, he certainly would have annexed Drüselstein if it had existed. It is known that José Doofenshmirtz was the son of Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz's great-grandmother, and that she gave him the family meat loaf recipe. It is unclear whether he was Heinz's grandfather or great-uncle. ** Sophie Scholl (1921 - 1943) was a university student who protested against the war and was executed for treason. ** Klaus Schlausen created by Peggy H. Greta Langenscheidt created by Evenmoor. _Danke_ to both for permission to borrow.

**_Anschluss_ (_Anschluß_)** – annexation, in particular the annexation of Austria in March, 1938

**_Großdeutsches __Reich_** "Greater German Domain" - the official state name of Germany from 1943–45; earlier used to refer to pre-1938 Germany (the **_Altreich_**) plus Austria and other annexed territories

Hitler Youth (**_Hitlerjugend_**) – The German youth organization founded by the Nazi Party (NSDAP). Made up of the **_Hitlerjugend_** proper, for male youth ages 14–18; the younger boys' section **_Deutsches __Jungvolk_** for ages 10–13; and the girls' section **_Bund __Deutscher __Mädel_** (BDM). From 1936 membership in the HJ proper was compulsory.

**_Wehrkraftzersetzung_** – a crime invented by the Nazis. It meant "negatively affecting the fighting forces." People who expressed doubts about Germany's chances of winning the war, or about Hitler's leadership were sometimes put to death for _Wehrkraftzersetzung_

**_Obersoldat: _**roughly the equivalent of a private

**_Gefreiter_**: roughly the equivalent of a private first class

_**Obergefreiter**:_ roughly the equivalent of a corporal, perhaps closer to USMC lance corporal or specialist, according to Jinzle (_Danke_, Jinzle, for researching German ranks.)


	3. Why We Must Win this War

**CHAPTER 3**

"Blimey, Colonel, listen to this nonsense." Cpl. Newkirk pointed to the coffee pot. "Are the Gestapo really wasting their time on penny-ante stuff like this?"

Through the transmitter hidden in the coffee pot, the prisoners heard Major Hochstetter's voice. "Why did your family buy its food at a kosher grocery store?"

"The Liebman's store was just down the block from our apartment, Major," _Gefreiter _Karl Moeller stammered out. "It was the closest store."

"It was a Jewish owned store, with kosher food!" Hochstetter roared.

Cpl. LeBeau shook his head. "Schlausen not going to boys' club meetings, Meusel being second cousin to some church lady in Berlin. Doofenshmirtz being a Drüselsteiner. Bonhoeffer for -"

"They keep this up, they won't have time to investigate us," Col. Hogan interrupted.

"What's a Drüselsteiner?" Carter asked.

"Somebody from Drüselstein," Kinch explained. Anticipating Carter's next question, he added, "A postage stamp kingdom on the border of Germany. Hitler took it over."

"All 'Itler wants is peace." Newkirk quoted, "A little piece of Poland, a little piece of France ..."

"Greedy _cochon_," LeBeau declared.

"We'd better win this war, Colonel, 'cause I refuse to live under the Gestapo," Kinch announced. He knew how hard it was to be a Negro in Detroit. He knew - from visits to his cousins - how much worse it was for Negroes in the South. He didn't want to even think about what life would be like for him and his people if the Nazis won the war.

"Boy, I sure wouldn't want to live in any country the Gestapo ran," Carter agreed. "How can they treat their own people this way? Don't they know about government being of the people, by the people, for the people?"

"Unfortunately, Carter, in Germany it's government of Hitler, by Hitler, for Hitler," Hogan informed him.

**SCENE BREAK**

Hochstetter used language unbecoming to an officer and a gentleman as he got into his black staff car. He returned to Berlin alone. He left all of Klink's guards behind, to their relief and his disgust.

Stalag 13 got as back to normal as it ever did: Hogan and his crew bombed bridges, passed information to London, helped escaped prisoners from other POW camps get back to allied lines, etc. Klink fought the never-ending war against red tape. The guards and prisoners alike were glad of the warmer weather. Neither the prisoners' barracks nor the guards' barracks had any insulation; everyone was glad that winter was finally over. Hogan was mildly annoyed at the longer days and shorter nights, as he had less time for sneaking out of camp.

Then one Tuesday in March, things weren't quite normal.

**Author's ****Notes: **Marga Meusel was a deaconess at a Berlin church who dared to speak out against anti-Semitism. Her pastor was Martin Niemöller, who wrote the famous "_First __they __came __for __the __communists, __and __I __didn't __speak __out, __because __I __wasn't __a __communist. __Then __they __came __for __the __trade __unionists, __and __I __didn't __speak __out __because __I __wasn't __a __trade __unionist. __Then __they __came __for __the __Jews, __and __I __didn't __speak __out __because __I __wasn't __a __Jew. __Then __they __came __for __me, __and __there __was __no __one __left __to __speak __out __for __me. "_** "A little piece of Poland, a little piece of France" is from a song in the Mel Brooks remake of To Be or Not To Be. (A good movie, but the Jack Benny original is better.)


	4. Doofenshmirtz Has a Problem

**CHAPTER 4**

The poker game in Barracks 2 was in high gear. There was a knock on the door. Before the men could hide the cards, the door opened. Schultz stepped in, with Doofenshmirtz behind him.

Newkirk, the dealer, breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, it's you, Schultzie."

Hogan looked up from his cards. "Didn't your mother teach you to knock, Schultz?"

Schultz looked at the men around the table: Hogan, Newkirk, Garlotti, Kinchloe, and Langenscheidt. "It is against regulations for guards to fraternize with prisoners. Out," he ordered the German corporal.

"But, Sarge, I'm winning," Langenscheidt protested.

"Yeah, winning the money you lost yesterday," Kinch pointed out.

"Out, Langenscheidt. Doofenshmirtz and I need to talk to Col. Hogan." Schultz's voice was more serious than usual.

Hogan laid his cards face down on the table. "We can go into my quarters, if this is private." Schultz waited until Langenscheidt had gathered up his money and left the barracks before he answered. "_Nein_, that is not necessary. You will tell your men anyway; they might as well hear."

LeBeau lay in his bunk, reading a two week old newspaper. He looked up from the _Dusseldorf __Stern._"What's wrong, Schultzie?"

"You know that I know nothing. I am happier that way. I do not want to see anything out of the ordinary. It is better for me that way. It is better for you that way. But," the portly sergeant held up a finger for emphasis, "you know that I know that you are not ordinary prisoners."

"Well, I like to think that my men are above average, but most COs are biased in favor of their troops." Hogan kept his voice nonchalant as he eyed Doofenshmirtz. Schultz didn't know everything about their operation, but he knew more than he should. If London ever found out how much Schultz did know, Hogan mused, they'd probably order him to shoot the sergeant. Doofenshmirtz, however, was an ordinary guard. As far as Hogan knew, he did know anything about the POWs' "extracurricular activities."

"Col. Hogan," Schultz chided, using much the same tone as he did when his children claimed not to have known who broke the cookie jar.

Hogan said nothing.

"Private Doofenshmirtz has a problem. I think you can help him. But after that," Schultz warned, "I know nothing and I do not want to know anything."

Sighing, Hogan glanced at Garlotti, then at one of the empty bunks. Garlotti took the hint and stood up. As he scooted out of the way, Hogan gestured at the empty chair.

Schultz sat down where Langenscheidt had been. Doofenshmirtz took Garlotti's seat. Schultz nodded at Doofenshmirtz. The young private pulled his wallet out of his pocket. Then he removed a photograph of a young boy from his wallet.

"Cor, 'oo's that? Little Lord Fauntleroy?" asked Newkirk.

"That is _Prinz_ Fritz," Doofenshmirtz said.

"_Qui_?" LeBeau asked.

"His Royal Highness _Prinz _Wilhelm-Friedrich," Doofenshmirtz replied. "Crown Prince of Drüselstein."

"Cute kid," Hogan acknowledged.

"It is not safe for him in Germany," Doofenshmirtz said.

"It's not safe for anybody in Germany these days," Kinch muttered under his breath.

"Because of the _Anschluss_, Drüselstein is now part of the Greater German Domain. And that is logical," Doofenshmirtz said hastily, as if not wanting to disparage the _Führer_'s plans in public. "We speak the same language, we listen to the same music, we eat the same food. We are - we were - a small country, small and weak, and Germany is strong."

"So's a skunk," Kinch muttered.

"But if - if Drüselstein is part of Germany now, it is ... inconvenient for the royal family to be there, reminding people we were once independent. And the Gestapo has a way of making inconveniences ... disappear."

"But he's only a kid," Carter said.

"Like that's gonna stop the bloody Gestapo," Newkirk scoffed.

"That might not stop the Gestapo," Hogan admitted. "Unfortunately, there's not much I can do about your prince. I'm a POW, not a babysitter."

"But you - you know things, you do things," Doofenshmirtz half-pleaded, half-protested.

"Did you see the barbed wire, _Obersoldat_? Did you see the men in _feldgrau _with rifles?" Hogan asked. "They're not here to keep burglars out. They're here to keep us in." The colonel shook his head. "Sorry, there's nothing I can do to help you."

"_Herr __Oberst_." Doofenshmirtz looked up at him. His brown eyes were like a puppy's eyes, begging to be taken for a walk or have a stick tossed.

Hogan steeled himself against the puppy dog eyes. He'd had practice, resisting Carter.

"Fritz's father enlisted in the German army, to prove his loyalty. _Der __Führer _sent him to the Russian Front, to prove his courage." Doofenshmirtz's face was pale. Men who were sent to the Russian Front seldom came home.

" 'Ard luck, that," Newkirk said quietly.

"He is not just the hope of a nation. He is a little boy - a frightened little boy - far from his home and family," Doofenshmirtz explained.

Hogan bit his lip. He thought quickly. He wanted to help. London would want to help, if they knew. Not only would it be spitting in Adolf's eye, proving the annexed lands like Austria and the Sudetenland weren't the docile little lambs the Nazis liked to pretend they were, but most of the officers at Whitehall were diehard royalists. Helping a prince, even a foreign prince from some country smaller than Rhode Island, would strike them as the right and proper thing to do.

The only problem was, helping the kid meant _Obersoldat_ Doofenshmirtz would know more about them and their operation than Hogan dared permit.

Hogan said nothing.

Schultz stood. He took a few steps toward the colonel's quarters. "Colonel, a word in your ear, _bitte __schön_." Hogan followed him. The sergeant lowered his voice. "Col. Hogan, I have a Fritz, too."


	5. Bonnie Prince Charlie

**CHAPTER FIVE**

April showers bring May flowers.

In a POW camp, April showers bring leaky roofs.

The prisoners in Barracks 2 weren't sure which would drive them to a Section 8 first: the rain drip-drip-dripping into the buckets or Col. Hogan pacing back and forth.

Newkirk looked up from his cards as the colonel walked past him again. "Blimey, guv'nor, why don't you go down to the tunnels? More room to pace there."

Hogan said nothing. He just bit his thumb and continued pacing.

"_Le colonel _is worried about _le petite prince." _LeBeau tried to make excuses for their CO to his _ami._

From his defensive tone, LeBeau sounded as if he expected someone to argue with him. No one did. No one said a word. This mission had gotten to all of them. They'd enlisted to fight the enemy - soldier to soldier. Blowing up bridges, sabotaging munitions factories, stealing information from the Gestapo, that was war. That was what they had expected. But a kid - the whole point of war was to try to keep civilians - especially women and children - safe. None of them were comfortable with a little boy in the danger zone.

"New bucket," Garlotti requested.

Kinch handed him an empty bucket. Garlotti exchanged it for one that was half full. Kinch took the bucket with rain water and carefully poured the water into _Wehrmacht_ issue canteens. It got dry and dusty in the tunnels; they'd be glad of the canteens later.

"I still think it's a darned shame no one in the underground could take the kid in," Carter said.

"Too dangerous for 'em," Garlotti said. "No way a family of four Wednesday could suddenly be a family of five Thursday. The Nazis wouldn't give 'em more ration coupons."

"Not to mention what would happen to them if _le Boche_ caught them," LeBeau pointed out. "You remember what Doofenshmirtz said about the prince being inconvenient and the Gestapo making inconveniences disappear."

"It's one thing hiding a downed flyer for a day or two," Kinch said. He couldn't help remembering the stories his grandfather had told him, of how his father, Kinch's great-grandfather, had come north on the Underground Railroad. He had never dared stay more than one day at any station before heading on the following night. "Taking a kid in for Heaven knows how long -"

"Especially a kid who could get you killed if they caught you babysitting," Sgt. Olson interrupted.

"The point's moot." Hogan barked the words rather than spoke them. "None of our local contacts in the underground are willing to take him in."

"Gee, you'd think for a kid, somebody would be willing to take him in," Carter persisted. "They could say he was a nephew or a cousin, or something, who'd been orphaned in a bombing raid. When Jonathan and Martha Kent found Superman, they didn't go around telling people they found a space baby in a rocketship; they said he was Martha's cousin's boy who was orphaned and they were adopting him. Y'know, LeBeau - hey, that rhymes, y'know, LeBeau," he interrupted himself, "one time I saw a movie about the Scarlet Pimpernel rescuing the dow-fin -"

"Dauphin," LeBeau corrected automatically.

" - the dauphin of France, and the bad guys were making him say really rotten things about his parents, that his father was a traitor and his mother was, well, that she was a scarlet woman. Do you think the Gestapo would do that to Prince Fritz if they caught him?"

"Can we give bloody Bonnie Prince Charlie a rest and concentrate on poker?" Newkirk demanded.

Hogan stopped. He whirled around to face his men. He snapped his fingers. "Newkirk, you're a bloody genius."

"Well known fact, sir," Newkirk acknowledged. "Er, what did I say that was so blooming clever?"

Hogan didn't answer. He pounded the bedframe of one of the bunks to open the entrance into the tunnels and hurried down without another word.

**SCENE BREAK**

Three days later, a group of _Bund Deutscher Mädel_ came to the camp. One of the troop leaders was _Frau _Schnitzer, the wife of the man who provided the dogs to the camp.

Col. Klink smiled at the fifteen sweet, adorable little girls. "I don't know when I've been to a more delightful tea party." The _Kommandant, Frau _Schnitzer, and the other troop leader, _Frau _Zimmerman, had tea. The girls had milk.

"On behalf of my men, I thank you for the generous gift of these cookies. It was very kind of you, and I know my soldiers will be delighted and surprised when they come to the mess hall this evening to receive such a treat."

The oldest girl stood up. "It is our pleasure and honor to support our boys in uniform."

"The boys in uniform will be very grateful," Col. Klink told her solemnly. "Whether a soldier is at the front or stationed at a _luftstalag_, it is hard to be away from home. To you, these cookies may be just an opportunity to earn a baking badge, but to our soldiers, it is proof positive that they are not forgotten. _Danke schoen_."

"Frau Schnitzer, before we go home, may we see your dogs?" one girl asked, just as she'd been coached.

"If the _Kommandant_ permits, you may see them at a distance, but you may not go pet them," the dog trainer's wife warned. "These are not playful puppies like you have at home. These are trained guard dogs, very fierce."

Fifteen sweet, adorable girls went to see the dogs. Fourteen sweet, adorable girls went home to their families.

**SCENE BREAK**

Kinch rolled a wheelbarrow full of dirt past the dog pens. Newkirk and LeBeau walked beside him, chatting merrily. They stopped near the pens. Newkirk whistled: a passable imitation of a nightjar's call.

It was odd to hear a nightjar so early in the spring; odder still to hear one in the daytime.

"Fritz, _komm' mit_," Kinch whispered. He had the second best German accent of Hogan's men, his fluency in _Deutsch_ second only to the colonel's.

Newkirk and LeBeau lifted a brown cloth off the wheelbarrow. Bits of gardening soil fell off the top of the cloth. " 'Ere, kid, in 'ere," Newkirk said quietly.

One of the _Bund Deutscher Mädel_ hurried away from the group and climbed into the wheelbarrow. LeBeau hastily replaced the cloth on top of the wheelbarrow. They sauntered away.

When they reached Barracks 2, Newkirk and LeBeau stood in front of the wheelbarrow, blocking the view of any guards. Kinch lefted the cloth and helped the "girl" out of the wheelbarrow and into the barracks.

Once inside, the child pulled off the blonde wig, revealing short carroty-orange hair. "Why did I have to dress like a girl?"

"_Prinz_ Friedrich-Wilhelm von Drüselstein, I assume. Colonel Robert Hogan, Your Highness," the Senior POW introduced himself in fluent German.

"I am not a girl," the prince complained.

"Bonnie Prince Charlie dressed like a girl when Flora Macdonald helped him escape from the Redcoats," Hogan told him. "We're just following royal tradition."

The boy relaxed a little when he heard that.

"Welcome to Barracks Two, Your Highness. We'll hide you here for a bit, then help you out of Germany," Col. Hogan promised.

"_Danke_," the prince said.

Carter stood peeking out the window, keeping watch. "Colonel, someone's coming."

"Into my quarters, " the colonel ordered. Olsen got up and opened the door to the colonel's office/bedroom.

Nodding, the boy went as he was bidden.

Sgt. Schultz opened the door. "Col. Hogan, you should have come to the _Kommandant_'s office. He had a tea party with homemade cookies."

"Wasn't invited, Schultzie," Hogan replied lightly.

"Maybe 'is invitation got lost in the mail," Newkirk suggested.

"More likely _der Kommandant_ wanted to keep the cookies to himself," Schultz retorted. "And since when do you wait for an invitation, _Herr Oberst_?"

A thunk came from the colonel's quarters, something falling to the floor.

"What was that?" Schultz asked.

"Must be Whistler," Hogan said calmly. "I've got him cleaning up my quarters."

"Colonel Hogan," Schultz said slowly, "I just saw Cpl. Whistler a few minutes ago, on the volleyball court."

"Are you sure, Schultz? In uniform, most of these guys look alike."

Schultz opened his mouth, then shut it again. "I see nothing. I hear nothing."

"And Schultzie?"

"_Ja, Herr Oberst_?"

"Send _Obersoldat_ Doofenshmirtz over this way, please."

"Doofen-" Schultz began. He stopped short. "I know nothing, nothing." He left the barracks as fast as his vast bulk permitted.

A moment later, the door of the colonel's quarters opened. Prince Friedrich-Wilhelm apologized. "I am sorry. The book fell."

"It's all right," the colonel assured him. He thought for a moment. The pin-up pictures that were hidden in the barracks weren't the sort a kid should see, and the few books they had weren't likely to interest a boy of ten... if he could even read English. "Do you play chess, Your Highness?"

Ten minutes later, Carter called out, "He's coming, Colonel."

Hogan nodded. "Let him in when he gets here. Discreetly."

Doofenshmirtz opened the door. Before he had a chance to say or do anything, Carter shut it behind him. The _obersoldat_ turned to look at the door, then turned back. He stared at the prince sitting at the table, playing chess with Col. Hogan.

"Fritz!"

The prince smiled. "Doofi, is it really you?"

Doofenshmirtz rushed to the prince, knelt beside him, and hugged the boy. "Fritz – _mein prinz_ – are you all right?"

"I take it you two know each other?" Newkirk asked.

"_Ja_, Doofi was the bootblack at the palace," Fritz replied, not realizing the question was rhetorical.

"I hate to interrupt old home week, but you'll have plenty of time to get reacquainted later," Hogan said. "Your Highness, we're going to send you out of harm's way. We're send you to England. You might stay there until the war is over; they might send you on to Canada. The Dutch royal family is in exile there. Heck, you might wind up staying with them."

Hogan turned to Doofenshmirtz, "He's too young to go alone. You'll have to go with him."

"I can't go with him," Doofenshmirtz protested. "I am a soldier, and a soldier must obey orders. I can't leave Stalag 13. I'll be court-martialled. Or worse, sent to the Russian Front."

"Listen, Private, see these?" Hogan pointed at his eagles. "I'm ordering you to go."

"But – " Doofenshmirtz sputtered.

The prince got up from the bench and approached Hogan. He whispered in the colonel's ear.

Hogan grinned, then nodded. "LeBeau, let me borrow your kitchen knife."

"_Oui, mon colonel_." The Frenchman fetched out the knife he used to chop vegetables.

Hogan took the knife and handed it, hilt first, to the prince. Fritz glanced at the floor. Taking the hint, Hogan dropped to one knee.

"By my authority as Crown Prince of Drüselstein," Fritz tapped Hogan on the right shoulder with the flat of the blade, then on the left shoulder, "and in the name of St. Michael and St. Gisilberht, I dub you a knight of Drüselstein." The boy nodded. Hogan stood.

Newkirk whistled. "Sir Robert, is it now?"

"Wow," Carter said.

Ignoring them, Hogan turned to Doofenshmirtz. "You told Hochstetter that you were a good Drüselsteiner, and that since Drüselstein was now part of Germany, you were a good German now."

"_Ja,_ but how did you know that?"

"And since Drüselstein is now part of the _Großdeutsches Reich__,_ then as a knight of Drüselstein, I am also a knight of the Third Reich, and a colonel," Hogan pointed out.

"_Ja_, I suppose so, but –"

Hogan stepped in front of Doofenshmirtz and got right in his face. " As a knight of Drüselstein, I am ordering you to protect your prince until the war is over and it's safe for both of you to come home to a free and independent Drüselstein."

" But, but - "

"Are you disobeying a royal knight of Drüselstein?"

_ " Nein, Herr Ritter!"_

"Good. If the Nazis find out you deserted, they might go after your family. So, we'll make sure they don't find out. Keep your mouth shut and be ready."

_ "Zu befehl, Herr Ritter!"_

**SCENE BREAK**

José Doofenshmirtz had three separate people ask him if something was wrong the next morning. He couldn't help feeling nervous, and although he tried, he couldn't hide it.

Now he'd been ordered to drive the _Kübelwagen_ to town to pick up supplies. He'd never been trusted with any military vehicle before, and he wasn't sure he could drive to town and back, as much as his hands were shaking. Col. Hogan had said he would help Fritz. Col. Hogan had Fritz in his barracks. The crown prince was in _Luftstalag_ 13, and if the Gestapo caught them –

Doofenshmirtz shuddered at the thought.

He tried to concentrate on keeping the _Kübelwagen_ straight. He wasn't a very good driver to begin with, and the _Kübelwagen_ steered like a cow at the best of times. The road curved. He slowed down as he went round the corner, then jammed on the brakes.

A repair crew was hard at work in the middle of the road. A guard signalled him to stop.

"_Was ist los_?" Doofenshmirt asked.

"Out of the car, please._" _The road guard spoke with an odd accent, and his face seemed vaguely familiar.

"I am on an errand of military importance," Doofenshmirtz protested. "I –"

"He said out of the car, Doofenshmirtz."

Doofenshmirtz looked up, a stunned look on his face. He recognized that voice. "Colonel Hogan?"

There stood Col. Hogan, wearing a _Wehrmacht_ uniform."I don't have all day, _Obersoldat_."

"Colonel Hogan? What are you doing here?"

"Out!"

"_Ja wohl, Herr Oberst_, er, _Herr Ritter_, uh, yes, sir." Doofenshmirtz opened the car door and got out.

Carter stepped forward and put something in the_ Kübelwagen._

"C'mon, Doofenshmirtz, let's get back a safe distance," Hogan colonel put his hand on Doofenshmirtz's shoulder and led him away from the vehicle. Doofenshmirtz's eyes widened when he recognized the rest of the work crew as prisoners from _Stalag_ 13._ "_Okay, Carter."

Carter pushed down on the plunger. The _Kübelwagen _blew up.

"I'm responsible for that! They'll take it out of my pay," Doofenshmirt protested.

"No, they won't. Nobody duns a dead man, and they'll think you were blown up with the car," Hogan told him.

"But my family." Doofenshmirtz suddenly realized that they would receive a telegram that he was dead.

"I'm sorry." Hogan's voice was sincere. "Once the war is over, you can tell them the truth."

**SCENE BREAK**

Hogan thumped the bedframe, revealing the entrance into the tunnels. "Stick with Olsen and Garlotti. Do what they tell you, and you'll be okay."

"_Ja, Herr Ritter_." Fritz nodded.

"You've got your orders, Doofenshmirtz. Protect that boy with your life."

"_Ja wohl, Herr Ritter_."

"When we get to England, do I get to be a boy again?"Fritz asked plaintively. He wore his _Bund Deutscher Mädel_ uniform and blonde wig again.

"Yes, Your Highness," Hogan promised. He turned to face Doofenshmirtz. "You make sure he's a tree-climbing, roller-skating, knee-skinning, frog-catching, marble-shooting boy. Don't let them keep him locked up in a palace. Make sure he has a chance to be a kid."

Doofenshmirtz managed a smile. "_Danke_, Colonel Hogan."

**SCENE BREAK**

"_Raus, raus,_ everybody out for roll call," Schultz ordered.

Schultz worried when the men took longer than usual, and milled around more than usual, refusing to settle into their assigned places. When that happened, it usually meant trouble. Trouble like not enough men, or the wrong men. Monkey business. He counted quickly.

"Colonel Hogan, there should be fifteen men," Schultz whispered.

"Yeah, Schultz, I know."

"I only count thirteen."

Hogan shrugged. "Some guys have trouble waking up in the morning. I've told you before, you should have roll call later in the day. Maybe around lunch time?"

"I will pass your recommendation on to _der Kommandant_," Schultz retorted sarcastically.

"Bet he'd welcome the chance to sleep in, too," Hogan whispered.

Schultz started to chuckle, then remembered the situation. "Colonel Hogan, the two men?"

"Well, Schultzie," Hogan began. Then the barracks door opened, and Olsen and Garlotti hurried out. The colonel ordered, "Fall in."

"Yessir," Garlotti muttered. He and Olsen fell into formation. The other men stopped milling about and arranged themselves in order.

Colonel Klink marched out. "Report!"

"All present and accounted for, _mein Kommandant_," Schultz reported with relief.

Klink listened to the reports from the other barracks. Naturally, all the prisoners were present. There had never been a successful escape from _Stalag_ 13. "Prisoners and guards, I have sad news for you. Yesterday, the Allies attempted to bomb the ball bearing plant in Dusseldorf. They failed; the plant was damaged, but the courageous workers are already back, continuing their efforts to bring our glorious Third Reich to victory. Unfortunately, one of the bombs went off course, and _Obersoldat _Doofenshmirtz was killed. As a token of mourning, lights out will be one hour earlier tonight."

There was muttering from the ranks at that news.

Klink corrected himself, "As a token of mourning, lights out will be one hour earlier all week. Pastor Adler of _der St.-Matthaeus-Lutherische-Kirche_ will be holding a memorial service in two days' time. Those who wish to attend please contact their sergeants, so the duty schedules can be re-arranged as necessary. Dismissed!"

**EPILOGUE**

Hogan watched as the caravan of cars returned to _Stalag_ 13.

Kinch came out of Barracks 2 and walked up to the colonel. "What's up?"

"The guards returning from the memorial service in town," Hogan explained. He continued to watch as the cars were returned to the motor pool.

"Just heard from London, sir. The sub docked at Plymouth about an hour ago. The prince should be in London by dinner time," Kinch told him.

"Good." Hogan watched as the rotund segeant walked toward them. "Here comes Schultzie."

Kinch nodded and went back into the barracks.

Schultz sidled up to the pilot and lowered his voice. "Col. Hogan, this nothing I do not know - will it help end the war?"

"I hope so, Schultz. I hope so."

/

~/~

/

**Author's Notes: **_Danke schoen_ to Jordre, Sgt. Moffit, and Lizzi for research for this chapter. Princess Juliana of the Netherlands and her children spent most of WWII in Canada. Her mother, Queen Wilhelmina, was in England, personally directing the Dutch government in exile, where Churchill described her as "the only real man amongst the governments-in-exile in London." The nightjar is cousin to our American whippoorwill, and is nocturnal, hence the name. Being a migratory bird, it doesn't normally return to Europe until late April or May. When the Young Pretender, Bonnie Prince Charlie, fled the British army, Flora Macdonald disguised him as her maid, "Betty Burke" when they escaped the Scottish mainland and went to the Isle of Skye in 1746. Section 8 (as any fan of MASH and Klinger knows) is a military discharge for reasons of insanity.

_Großdeutsches Reich_ "Greater German Domain" - the official state name of Germany from 1943–45; earlier used to refer to pre-1938 Germany (the _Altreich_) plus Austria and other annexed territories

Hitler Youth (_Hitlerjugend_) – The German youth organization founded by the Nazi Party (NSDAP). Made up of the _Hitlerjugend_ proper, for male youth ages 14–18; the younger boys' section _Deutsches Jungvolk_ for ages 10–13; and the girls' section _Bund Deutscher Mädel_ (BDM). From 1936 membership in the HJ proper was compulsory.

**"Unhappy the land where heroes are needed." Bertolt Brecht, _Life of Galileo_, 1943**

_ Denn die einen sind im Dunkeln. ~~*~~_There are some who are in darkness

_Und die andern sind im Licht.~~*~~ _And the others are in light.

_ Und man siehet die im Lichte ~~*~~_And you see the ones in brightness.

_ Die im Dunkeln sieht man nicht. ~~*~~_Those in darkness drop from sight.


End file.
